


Love in the Time of Zombies

by Endangered_Slug



Series: September Prompts [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Not my strong suit, Probably not what you were expecting, Prompt Fic, Some gory bits, Some smutty bits, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-17 17:11:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2317055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Endangered_Slug/pseuds/Endangered_Slug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Forzaouat prompted: Rumbelle, tennis shoes, zombies, cookie dough ice cream.</p><p>Belle French goes to work one morning to find her library overrun by zombies. She finds safety and comfort with the town's loan shark, the mysterious Mr. Gold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is not my first zombie fic. Believe it or not, ten years ago I wrote a Pride and Prejudice zombie story for a Halloween challenge. And then a few years later someone wrote Pride, Prejudice and Zombies* AND YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW HARD I AM KICKING MYSELF FOR MISSING THAT BOAT. Like a lot. So this is my second zombie story ever and maybe in a few years another lucky author who is not me will publish a Rumbelleish Zombie book that makes millions and a movie deal. I promise I won't be too bitter about it.
> 
>  
> 
> * That was not my story. Mine featured a badass Mary Bennet. Because.

When the world ended, and she found herself armed with a shelving cart and a copy of The old Man and the Sea as the only means of escaping a small crowd of undead in her library, the first person Belle French thought of was not her father back in Australia or her fiancé, who was just across town, but of Mr. Gold in the pawn shop across the street.

 

Belle lived above the library where she worked, had already done her weekly shopping the day before, and kept the TV off as her boyfriend wasn't spending the evening plopped down on her couch for another round of 'Let's Set the Date' and 'Just a Bit More Time', so she'd completely missed the breaking news of the end of the world.

 

That morning she'd come downstairs with her morning coffee, turned on the lights and the computers as usual, then unlocked the front doors at the start of business.

 

The Scourge had come as a surprise, as apocalypses tend to do. One day the world was fine, and the next, the dead had risen from their graves. And they were hungry.

 

Her first patrons had been normal looking, if a bit disoriented, but the one that came in bleeding black sludge from the gaping hole where its arm had once been clued her in to the fact that the day had just turned to shit. Before she could react, the small horde had turned on her as one and she'd found herself fighting for her life with the entire bottom shelf of the reference section.

 

She'd just had the time to be glad that she'd never gotten around to upgrading the encyclopedias when the thought of Mr. Gold flashed through her mind.

 

Mr. Gold, with his expensive suits, too-long hair, warm brown eyes, and a wicked smile that made her insides flutter. He was mysterious and powerful and dangerous and she watched him, those short moments whenever their paths crossed.

 

He had a limp, gained from an accident know one knew the details of (but the rumors were ripe with speculation), and walked with the use of a cane. She knew it could be used as a weapon — she'd seen him wield it before, once, during a scuffle she'd stumbled upon outside the Rabbit Hole when she came across him speaking in menacing undertones to someone she couldn't recognize through the dim light. She watched with captivation as he raised his cane to strike the other man cowering before him, already battered from the encounter. His head turned as if sensing he was being watched. He found her in the shadows immediately. Sorrow and guilt and fleeting misery crossed his features when he noticed her and his hand lowered a fraction of an inch as he silently mouthed her name. They locked eyes for a moment before he recovered himself, turning back with a resigned look, his jaw set. She'd scurried away before he could bring his cane down, but she knew he always got paid, one way or another and when she saw Keith Nottingham a few days later, arm in a cast and his face swollen and bruised she knew it wasn't because he ran into a door.

 

Witnessing the brutal power he wielded over another man disturbed her. It was worrying to know that she was attracted to a man who had the ability to bring a man to his knees and get away with it. Mr. Gold had always intrigued her and she wasn't frightened of him in the least, in fact, after that night he avoided look her in the eyes ever again. He never came near her, and only came into the library when she wasn't working. How could she be frightened of a man who shied away from her very presence?

 

Still, that was just one man against another. This was End Times. People were going crazy. If one of these zombies didn't get him, surely someone would see the opportunity to seek him out and—

 

This was thought out in a matter of seconds before she'd made up her mind. Belle swallowed and grabbed the handle of the cart, readying herself to push through anyone who got in her way. The front doors would swing out if she rammed them hard enough and she could be at the door of his shop within two minutes provided there wasn't anything in her way.

 

The fleeting thought of her father and Gary passed through her mind, but she figured she'd call them when she had time. Mr. Gold's shop was just across the street and she needed to get to him before someone — or some _thing_ — else did.

 

She did wish she had the means of changing into her tennis shoes, but the way to her apartment was blocked by seven drooling zombies who were rapidly descending upon her. She didn't have her phone, her keys, her purse, or even a spare tube of lipstick, but she did have her heavy cart and a set of Micheners to use as missiles if they got too close.

 

There was nothing left but to steel her nerves and send a small prayer up to whomever would listen. Contemplating failure wasn't an option, the only thing to do was to do the brave thing.

 

Bravery would surely follow.

 

She burst through the doors, the undead following behind her at an alarming rate and found herself amid chaos. There were bodies laying on the street, people she once knew and liked, but she had no time to stop and process what had happened because her own special hell was behind her with a fresh, new hell approaching and she had to keep moving. Mr. Gold's shop was to the right just across the street; she could make it as long as she stayed upright and unbitten.

 

Once upon a time, when her mother was still alive, Belle had been an amateur ballerina. It was something she enjoyed doing and had even has aspirations of a professional career before her mother's sudden death destroyed her ambitions. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that the skills she had honed during her years of practice would come in handy as she dodged and fought her way through an unexpected zombie horde.

 

She might have been the most graceful street fighter in the world at that moment. Never before had her muscle memory kicked in to such advantage. The series of pas de chats were light and airy as she side-stepped over pieces parts she didn't want to identify, narrowly avoiding a swipe to the neck from a clawed hand that once belonged to sweet Mrs. Shu. The pirouette she executed was matchless. Toes pointed, knee turned out and a quick follow through with her heel that knocked poor Mr. Clark away four feet. Her grande jeté coming out of the spin was perfect and as she leapt over the crawling body of another zombie, she vowed just then that, if she lived through this nightmare, the first thing she would do would be to look up her former ballet mistress and thank her profusely.

 

She landed gracefully only to turn once more and come face to grill with a Cadillac coming to a screeching halt inches away from her knees. Her own forward motion wasn't as easily halted, rolling on top of the hood into the windshield with a series of thumps. Later on she would catalogue the bruises, but at the moment she was thanking every deity in existence that she was in one piece.

 

“ _Belle_! Oh god, Belle!”

 

She lifted herself on her shaking arms coming face to face with a horror-struck Mr. Gold. The man himself! She scrambled toward the driver's side, away from the arms reaching for her, and pulled frantically at back door handle, yanking at it until Mr. Gold unlocked it from the front. She scrambled into the backseat with a shout, shutting the door as she went just as a clawed hand reached out for her. It had gained a few strands of her hair, but she remained intact.

 

Gold had locked the doors as soon as she closed the door but his attention was on her, his face distraught and pinched with fear, not minding the heavy pounding on the windows.

 

“Are you hurt?” he asked, frantically. “Tell me if you're hurt, Belle!”

 

She shook her head, her hair tumbling down into her face as she gasped and shook, trying to find her voice. It came at last, hoarse and croaking. “I'm fine.”

 

“But I _hit_ you.” His face was aghast, as if the idea of lowing into her was the worst thing he could think of.

 

She glanced down at herself, expecting to see bones protruding out from the way he was acting. “No,” she said with the dawning realization that she was alright and safe for now. “You didn't. You stopped just in time.” She gave him a shaky smile.

 

He turned away quickly and she scrambled over the back of the seat to join him up front.

 

“Actually, I was on my way to you,” she said as she plopped down next to him, her skirt billowing out onto the seat like a purple cloud.

 

“To _me_? Why?”

 

At the moment she couldn't say why. She _knew_ , but she couldn't find the words when faced with the reality of him. “I just was,” she said.

 

The horrified expression did not leave his face. If anything, it grew worse. “Are you _crazy_?”

 

This wasn't the scenario she'd imagined once she found him and she found herself to be more than a little put out by it. She'd hoped for some happiness that she was alive, maybe some gratitude that she'd thought of him. Kissing would have been welcome, too. And, even though she hadn't envisioned them running towards each other through a field of wild flowers (with zombies shuffling behind them in pursuit) with the overture to Romeo and Juliet playing in the distance, _some_ amount of pleasure would have been nice.

 

“I was worried about you,” she admitted, looking down at her hands in her lap. They were filthy with who-knows-what and she felt her stomach lurch.

 

He looked at her, eyes wild with desperation. “You should worry about yourself, Miss French. I can take care of myself.”

 

“Yes. I'll remember that next time” she said, sullenly. She put on her seatbelt trying not to mind as the car lurched forward, gaining traction over the bodies under it. The car was not made for rough driving.

 

“Hopefully there won't be a next time.” He looked away, back towards the road and the obstacle course he had to drive through.

 

“I—”

 

“I mean we should probably stick together. There's safety in numbers I believe.”

 

“That's my thinking as well.”

 

He turned a corner, plowing through a cluster of her former neighbors. Body parts burst apart as if they'd been festering for weeks under the hot July sun and, unable to watch the carnage any longer, she glanced to her right...

 

Oh. She found Gary.

 

That wasn't how she would have liked things to end with him, but it saved her the pain of telling her father that she was single once again.

 

She looked at Mr. Gold quickly to see if he'd noticed, but he was grimly watching the road, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were white with the effort. It couldn't be easy for him either. Sure, he was a bit of a misanthrope but driving through crowds of people – even if they were, technically, already dead — had to take its toll. He turned on the wipers to cut through the gore splattered on the windshield. It only served to spread it around worse than before.

 

She'd seen several survivors hurrying toward safety, but they she knew it was foolish to stop when they themselves were surrounded. There was no way they could reach the others in time without sacrificing their own safety. A jolt of guilt stabbed at her and she looked away

 

“Do you want me to drive?” she asked remembering that his right leg was the one injured.

 

“No. You shouldn't have to do this. Don't even look out there,” he said with a sharp glance at her face; his own was pinched with worry. “Please don't.”

 

“Your leg—”

 

“I'll be fine.” He glanced at her then back to the road. “Just... hang on.”

 

An optical nerve had wrapped around the left wiper and Belle watched it in morbid fascination, as the eyeball connected to it trailed back and forth, back and forth until it caught underneath the rubber and finally popped. She wondered if it was safe to pull over so she could empty her stomach, but by the time she was able to open her mouth to ask him, the nausea had passed.

 

It was better for her if she just watched him instead of what was happening outside. It would take her mind off the periodic thump and crunch as Mr. Gold ran over yet another zombie trying to get at them.

 

He stopped the car when they reached the town line, putting it in park before he finally looked at her.

 

She stared at him, the way his hair framed his face and how his lovely brown eyes sought hers. He looked incredibly tired and so worn out that she worried he might simply collapse. She imagined she didn't look much better.

 

“What do we do?” she whispered, looking at him desperately.

 

He took a deep, shaky breath. “Well, we can either head to the city where we know there will be provisions, but there are people that want to kill us; or we head up into the mountains where we won't be surrounded by hordes of zombies, but we won't have food.”

 

“That's the worst choice I've ever heard of,” she said, thinking that under different circumstances she would adored the idea of being isolated with Mr. Gold. Dangerous, volatile, strange, and soft Mr. Gold. “Did you have a place in mind?”

 

He nodded his head, thoughtfully. “Yeah. I know of a place nearby. We should be fine there until we think of a better plan.”

 

She smiled in encouragement. “Let's go then.”

 

He put the car in gear again and drove them out of Storybrooke.

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

The drive up into the mountains was quiet, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Belle, trying to stave off both the inevitable shock that she could feel grasping at her from the edges of her conscious and thoughts of what might happen in the future. She couldn't bring herself to think about what had happened just yet, knowing that she would dissolve into a pile of hysterics. The shock was creeping in but she pushed the terror of the morning aside for the more immediate concern of how to survive through the night. At the moment they were safe but she wouldn't give odds for the next day.

 

They turned off the highway about twenty miles out of town and drove for another fifteen minutes up a well-tended gravel road until they reached a charming log cabin sitting on the edge of a picturesque clearing. The sun was shining even though the world was ending and the cabin looked as snug and quaint and perfect for a romantic getaway as she could think of. Behind the cabin she could see the sparkling blue of a lake and, far beyond it, the hazy outline of a distant mountain range.

 

“This is so beautiful,” she said in awe. She couldn't believe that less than an hour before she was fighting for her very life and now she was sitting in front of a Walton's set.

 

“Yeah,” Gold said in reply, but when she turned to look at him, he'd quickly looked away towards the house.

 

“How did you know it was here?” she asked.

 

He shrugged, turning the engine off and putting the key in his pocket. “I own it. Rent it out seasonally or to weekenders.”

 

“Oh, no,” Belle said, realizing something as she looked back on the setting.

 

Gold was instantly alert for trouble. “What is it?”

 

She looked at him sheepishly feeling bad for alarming him needlessly. “It's just, this is one of the venues we were considering for the wedding.”

 

His brows furrowed and his lips pressed into a thin line as if he was holding back something he desperately wanted to say. As quickly as it had come, his mood passed and his features were once again masked with the stoney-faced landlord the town knew.

 

She peered out of the window towards the tree line. "It looks clear, but I don't think I'd like to linger and admire the view.”

 

“On the count of three?” he asked, taking his keys, pulling off one and handing it to her.

 

She nodded, gripping it tightly in her fist, understanding immediately. He knew she would reach the door before him and would be better able to get it unlocked and she noticed that he'd pulled in so that she was closest to the door. It was a consideration few in town would have expected of him.

 

Gold counted down slowly, both of them gripping the doorhandles, ready to run to the door as quickly as possible. When he reached “three” they ran as fast as their legs could carry them. In Belle's case she reached the porch within a few steps and she fumbled with the key for a heart stopping moment but she had the door open before Gold had even made it to the front steps. She turned back and ran to him, holding out her hand to pull him up the last few steps.

 

They ran inside and shut the door behind them with a loud _snick_.

 

Gold thought it best to first make sure that no one else - alive or... not - was in the house and a quick sweep soon showed that they were the only ones home.

 

Then they got busy tearing the place apart barricading every conceivable entrance from the attic down to the root cellar. Belle had seen enough horror movies in her life to know where the forgotten entrances may be located and between the two of them, they managed to seal off the house as best they could.

 

“Okay. Good. That's good," Belle said as they finished nailing the antique dining table against the picture window facing the lake. “We're safe, right?”

 

She could feel the day's events racing to catch up with her, the dam she'd erected against them in the moment starting to crack. The shaking began in her hands, traveling up through her arms and down her legs before she understood what was happening. That her town was littered with the bodies of her friends and she narrowly escaped with her life and Mr. Gold by her side. Everything as she knew it was gone and tomorrow was uncertain at best. She dropped to her knees, hand pressed to her mouth to try to keep the ragged sobs inside, but they burst out, ugly and aching, slipping through her fingers to poison the air.

 

A pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around her shoulders as the breakdown overtook her and she could no longer sit upright on her own. He held her until she cried everything out, crooning nonsense in her ear and holding her tightly with his arms and legs wrapped around her in a secure embrace, his face buried against her neck as his own shaky breaths warmed her ear.

 

He murmured her name in a low, sweet mantra. “Belle. Belle,” he whispered and his voice washed over her, each utterance enveloping her, bringing her back from the brink.

 

When the racking sobs subsided and she was quiet again, she rolled over to face him, wincing as she realized how uncomfortable her position was. Mr. Gold was probably in worse shape, with his bad leg still wrapped about her, anchoring her and keeping her safe.

 

He let her go the moment she moved and she immediately felt the loss of his heat. He was strong and solid and she'd nursed a crush on him for a long time — even during her foolish engagement to another man — and, well, it seemed like it was a now or never affair. She reached a shaking hand out and brushed the hair back from his face, needing to see his eyes.

 

“Mr. Gold—”

 

"Cameron."

 

"Pardon me?"

 

"It's my name,” he said, softly, his eyes warm and bright as he stared at her. “If we're the last people on earth you should at least know it."

 

“Cameron,” she said with a smile. “Thank you for bringing me here. I wouldn't have survived without you.”

 

“To be honest," he said, his voice low and hoarse. "If I had to spend the end of the world with anyone, I'm glad it was you.”

 

That startled her out of her reverie and she beamed at him. “That's the nicest thing any one has ever said to me.”

 

“You need better friends, Miss French.”

 

“It's Belle.” Then added with a coy smirk, “I know you know it.”

 

He nodded his head with a boyish smile. “I know it. It's a beautiful name.” He sat up with some reluctance. “We should probably finish if we plan on getting any sleep tonight.”

 

She didn't think sleep was possible, but she helped him up and pretended not to notice the wince as his stood, his leg plainly hurting beyond what he was was used to. They took turns washing up at the kitchen sink, neither of them wanting to be separated from each other even though they knew they were alone and safe inside their hastily fortified cabin. She washed her face and scrubbed the grime off her hands all the way up to her elbows but as hard as she scrubbed she couldn't get rid of the feeling of uncleanliness. She felt polluted and Gold had to physically stop her before she rubbed her skin off with the abrasive sponge.

 

He gently took her hands in hers, turning them over to check for wounds, running his fingers softly over a raw spot by her thumb. “This isn't you,” he said, softly. “You're not contaminated. Don't do this to yourself.”

 

She nodded her head, watching him carefully. The ends of his hair were damp from his own wash. He'd run a cloth over and around his neck, letting the water drip down his shirt collar and Belle had never seen him so disheveled before — not even when he was beating the snot out of someone with his cane. She could feel herself reacting to him on a primal level and some part of her mind wondered if it was because of their near death experience or if it was simply seizing the opportunity to fulfill a fantasy.

 

He cleared his throat and stepped away, dropping her hand. “We should look at our supplies. I don't keep the place stocked since renters bring their own food, but there should be something here.”

 

She took a breath to compose herself. He was right “I'm so hungry right now, I don't care if it's a jar of pickles," she said with forced cheerfulness.

 

“I'm sure we can do better than that,” he retorted with a half smile that made her heart stop.

 

A quick rummage around the pantry yielded a box of stale crackers, some instant coffee, and a few cans of condensed soup.

 

“Well, it could be worse,” he said as he looked over everything spread out on the kitchen island. “We at least have enough for a few meals. There may be something down in the cellar, too.”

 

Belle made a face at him as she pulled open the freezer just in case there were any Hot Pockets left over from someone's summer vacation. Instead she found a treasure. Her eyes widened and she snatched at it with a squeal. “Ooh!”

 

He was by her side instantly. She turned around in triumph holding up a half finished pint of cookie dough ice cream coming face to face with him. Her cry of “I win!” fading as she realized how close he was.

 

He looked down at her, his face soft and his eyes warm as he held her gaze. There was something about him that was wholly missing when she was with Gary and she couldn't put her finger on it. It may be the way his face transformed when he looked at her going from stoney-faced loan shark to wistful and unsure whenever he met her eyes, which, admittedly, wasn't very often. He was still skittish around her, then. Belle didn't know if it was because of shame for the illegal act she witnessed or if he felt the underlying attraction, too; she just knew that he felt more for her than Gary had professed to feel, and yet, she'd become engaged to Gary instead of this enigmatic man before her.

 

She eyed his lips thinking that if she just stood on her toes she would be able to taste them, but he stepped back before she could act, smiling tightly.

 

“I'll take care of dinner,” he said, turning away, leaning heavily on his cane.

 

While he heated up the soup, Belle busied herself with gathering candles and blankets, dragging them into what they felt was the safest room in the house. It was the smaller of the two bedrooms, but had an adjoining bathroom and, most importantly, only one window to defend should it come to that. She piled the blankets into nest on the side of the bed and joined Mr. Gold back in the kitchen where she found some candles and matches and a spare flashlight.

 

By mutual agreement they decided to keep the electricity use to a minimum until they were sure what attracted the zombies. Was it the smell of fresh meat or the lure of human activity that drew their attention? Neither could say though they both had their own theories, so after their hasty dinner and filling some bottles with fresh water, they turned everything off and they went down the hall to their hideout.

 

They were quiet, as they ate their desert in the fading afternoon light, sitting on the bed with their backs against the headboard, both of them lost in thought. He'd shucked off his jacket and hung it over a chair, but his vest and tie were still in place as if he couldn't let himself relax with her nearby. It was the most she'd ever seen of him.

 

She relished the solid weight of him next to her, his movements precise and quick as they passed the ice cream back and forth.

 

“I don't feel very secure here," he said after a long while, licking the back of his spoon clean.

 

She followed the movements carefully, looking away quickly when he turned his attention back to her.

 

“My shop would have been better. It has bars on the windows at least.”

 

Belle was surprised to hear this because he was certainly running out of town when he nearly ran over her. “What was your plan when you left it?” she asked. “Why leave?”

 

“What?” he said, just a little too quickly. His eyes shifted away from hers and he shifted nervously.

 

"You were in your car when you found me,” she pointed out. “Where were you going?”

 

“I... nowhere.” He very carefully avoided her eye, studying the bottom of the ice cream carton as if it held all the answers of the universe within it. “I almost killed you,” he whispered hoarsely.

 

“Cameron,” she said, putting a hand on his forearm. “Why leave if you felt safe in your shop?”

 

His lips thinned and he seemed as if he wasn't going to answer her question. He set the carton on the end table and placed the spoon next to it with deliberately short movements. “I saw the library overrun,” he said as if admitting a shameful secret. “I thought...” He shook his head as if to dispel the memory from his mind, looking at her finally. The anguish in his face was undeniable.

 

 _Oh_.

 

“You were coming for me?” she asked breathlessly.

 

He gave her a joyless smile. “Or die trying.”

 

That was the most romantic thing Belle had ever heard.

 

"In your car?"

 

"I'm not the best runner in the world," he said, motioning to his cane. "I was thinking of driving through the doors. Hopefully not running you over in the process, which I very nearly did anyway."

 

It seemed that nearly hitting her was the worst thing that happened to him today. She took his hand in hers and pressed gently. His fingers were long and calloused and he looked up at her sharply with wonder that she would touch him without coercion.

 

“I saw Gary back in town,” she said slowly, watching his face. “He was one of them.”

 

He squeezed her hand tightly. “My condolences,” he said, not able to look at her any longer. He kept his eyes on their intertwined fingers.

 

And she saw that he meant it. He truly thought she was in love with someone else and it hurt him to know that she was hurting. Her heart lurched and fluttered until she could barely breathe.

 

“Is it bad that I'm relieved?” she said, leaning over until she could see his eyes. She needed him to know that she was sincere. “Not that the world has gone mad, but that I don't have to go through with the wedding now? I finally have the perfect excuse to back out and no one will fault me.”

 

“You didn't want to marry him?” he asked incredulously, confusion written in his beautiful eyes.

 

“No, never," she said quietly.

 

“Then why?”

 

“Oh, it seems so ridiculous now. He took me to a baseball game in Boston. And you know how they have that Kiss Cam? On the big screen thing they have? Well, he tipped off the staff that he was going to propose that night. I was put on the spot. I couldn't say no, not in front of all those people. I mean, they televise it across the whole country. So I said yes, thinking I'd talk to him later about it and sort of get out of it. But then my dad called because he knew it was going to happen and he was so excited you would have though that Garry had proposed to _him_ and it was all anyone could talk about when we got back—"

 

"Yes, I remember.”

 

“You saw the game?” She didn't know why, but the thought of him witnessing it appalled her.

 

“No,” he said tersely and looking away. “They showed the segment on Good Morning, Storybrooke the next day. Close ups, slow-mo. They dissected the kiss in great detail.” His voice dripped with scorn and she added humiliation to horror.

 

“Oh _god_.”

 

“Yes,” he said with an undisguised bitterness in his voice.

 

She waited a heartbeat to see if he'd elaborate but he kept his lips firmly pressed together. “Anyway,” she went on. “He wasn't a bad man, he was just... not what I'd envisioned for my future. I'd actually hoped he'd call it off himself if I kept stalling. I don't think I would have gone through with it.”

 

“He treated you well?” he asked, hand reflexively clenching around hers.

 

Belle shrugged, noncommittally. “Gary was nice, but there wasn't much to him. We didn't have the same interests or goals. I thought that I'd grow to love him, but I never did. I just couldn't make myself fall in love with him. There was no passion in him. Mr. Three Pumps and Done — no regard whatsoever for me. He never _really_ cared for me, you know?” she asked as  Gold shifted uncomfortably next to her. “Not just in the bedroom, but everywhere else. I think he saw me more as a means to an end and I went along with it just to keep from rocking the boat. It was all about him and what he would do and what I could do for him... I should have broken off sooner but I didn't know how. I'm sorry he's dead, but next time I won't let public opinion get in the way of what I want,” she said, eyeing his lips once more.

 

“Do you expect there will be a next time?”

 

“It's already presented itself,” she whispered, leaning forward so their noses almost touched. She could feel his breath coming in soft puffs against her cheek, caressing her, warming her. She tugged at his hand a bit, bringing him closer.

 

“I'm not a good man,” he said, with a shaky gulp. “I'm not... not a hero.”

 

“I think you are,” she said as she pressed her lips to his. They were soft and warm and she smiled against them, lightly rubbing them with hers.

 

His breath was coming in ragged gasps and washed over her, “I'm a dangerous man.” He lifted a shaking hand and caressed her face with the back of his fingers as if even his hands were unworthy of touching her. She leaned into them, relishing his touch.

 

“I'm not afraid of you.” She kissed his fingers briefly before returning to his lips.

 

I can be ruthless,” he said, returning her kiss at last with a nibble along her bottom lip, nuzzling her to the side with his nose.

 

She gasped as he nibbled at her neck, unerringly finding the spot behind her ear that sent shivers down her spine and made her want to writhe against him. “Oh god, I hope so.”

 

“Not worthy to touch you,” he murmured even as he did just that, running his hands lightly down her check to her throat where he could feel the flutter of her heartbeat.

 

Ah, there it was. Belle grabbed his hair with both hands and pulled until he looked at her fully. Doubt lingered there as well as a burning desire that fed her own. She loosened her grip in his hair, running her fingers through the soft strands, pushing them back from his face. “Let me decide who gets to touch me or not,” she said with a firmness he couldn't deny. “I've wanted you for so long, but I never had the courage until now.” She kissed him lightly once more, just a brush against the side of his mouth as he turned away in self-disgust, face pinched with painful memories.

 

“Even after you saw?” his voice trailed off, unable to bring his shame into words.

 

“Yes,” she breathed against him, running the tip of her tongue along the edge of his ear, tasting him for the first time. “Even after.”

 

He crushed her to him with a groan, bringing his mouth down on hers as he rolled on top of her, licking and sucking until she opened to him. The noise he made when he felt her tongue against his sent a line of fire straight to her groin and she yanked him closer so hard that she feared she may have ripped out his hair. Either he didn't mind or didn't notice because he never stopped kissing her until she became breathless from the want of him.

 

They pulled at their clothes, Belle attacking his tie with an eagerness she didn't know she possessed until it was in her hands. She yanked at it until it loosened then went after the button underneath with shaking fingers. It was a stubborn button, refusing to budge an inch until she gave up and used her teeth until it gave way. She spit it out hastily and dove in for the rest of the buttons.

 

The rest of the them came apart easily and soon she had his shirt spread open, her hands running over his skin underneath the silky fabric. There was no doubt in her mind, no hesitation as she brought her mouth to his chest and licked at him, running her tongue and teeth over his flesh leaving goosebumps in her wake. She pulled the shirt over his arms, forgetting about his cufflinks momentarily as she pulled him closer.

 

He cried out when she sucked in a nipple and sat back on his knees, pulling away from her. His hair was disheveled and wild from where her hands tugged on it so mercilessly and his lips were bruised from her kisses. He kept her gaze as he undid his cuffs, tossing the links aside with a clatter followed his shirt. His eyes dropped from hers down to her own chest, which, she just noticed, was exposed to him. He'd been a busy man while she was distracted it seems. She squirmed against him, needing friction of some sort, any sort, while he took his dear, sweet time gazing at her. His hand shook as he gently running it over her lacy bra before hooking the edge with a finger and slowly pulling it down until he exposed her nipple. He licked his lips, quickly glancing at her face as if to reassure him that she was still okay with this, still willing and wanting before he went any further.

 

The sight of him, kneeling between her spread knees, panting and gasping for air as he looked at her, made her want more. She reached up and pinched her nipple, whimpering as the jolt fed the fire in her veins, the warmth spreading its way through her body. She watched him watch her as she kneaded her breast and it fueled her desire for him even more. His face was slack with need, eyes blown black with lust. He was beautiful and she ached to have him inside her. Forget the foreplay. Forget the world. Forget the everything. Just him and her, joined.

 

He bent down with a groan, licking at her finger until she let him cover her nipple with his mouth, sucking and nibbling until she was keening into the night air. It was as if he had magic in his fingertips, the way he spread the tingling heat everywhere he touched her, gently, reverently, squeezing her breasts, running a calloused hand along her sides, over her stomach, underneath her skirt until he was holding her cupped in his hand pressing in firmly against her while she cried out. She ground down against him, feeling her wetness soak through her underwear and coat his fingers. It wasn't enough and she was going to go crazy if she didn't come soon.

 

She reached down, undoing his zipper carefully and taking him in hand. He was hot and heavy as she stroked him, twitching when she reached a spot near the head and he jerked back with a groan.  
  


“You are going to ruin me right here if you keep that up, sweetheart” he said desperately.

 

Belle rather liked the sound of that. She hoped that she would have another opportunity to ruin him completely, bringing him to his knees as swiftly and ruthlessly as he'd brought so many others to theirs, only she wanted him body and soul, hers to keep and pleasure and love. And, if he wanted, she would give him the same in return. She suspected that was a deal he would gladly accept if she asked it of him at that moment, with his cock in her fist and his fingers buried deep in her cunt. He'd give her anything if she wanted it. She smiled at him wickedly and kept pumping her hand, memorizing the way his skin moved over his rigid cock the sounds he made when she squeezed him gently over the head.

 

“You want to be ruined,” she said, hoarsely, her words sending a thrill down her spine. “Don't you? You want me to do it.”

 

“Fuck! Yes!” He gasped, burying his face in her hair, his hips were thrusting in time with her fist and his fingers furiously worked at her. His thumb found her clit, moving in circles around it until she was crying out with him. He came hard with a muffled curse and what sounded like her name. He spent himself in her hand, coming in long, thick spurts landing hot against her thighs. Her own need was still there, aching and throbbing in time to her own heartbeat.

 

He pressed his thumb against her clit, rubbing and rubbing desperately until she came, nails digging into his shoulders as she flew apart in his arms.

 

He watched her as she came, kissing her face and holding her tightly against him. She gave him a goofy smile, feeling boneless and content in his arms.

 

“I could...” he started to say after a few minutes once he caught his breath. “I could find a way to fortify this cabin. If you want we can stay here for a while until we know what's going on better. Gather some supplies. Maybe a few weapons. We can be safe I think. Maybe we can bring in others if we find any — people who can help us. Does that sounds good to you?”

 

She hugged him close to her, loving the way his heartbeat sounded underneath her ear. “That sounds like a perfect world, Cameron.”

 

He smiled against her hair. “Good. I can't wait to get started.”

 

“Me, too.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
